Star Wars: Hunter's Path
by penguinfragger1
Summary: In year 19 BBY, the Empire has just been proclaimed. For Ram, a down-on-his-luck bounty hunter, it brings a golden opportunity to redeem himself by indulging in the most lucrative activity of his career: hunting down survivors of the Great Jedi Purge for the count of the Empire. R&R appreciated!
1. Ch 1 : Wounded Predator

**Nar Shaddaa**

**Mid levels**

Ram Arston lay dejectedly on the single narrow bunk of the feebly lit medical bay, brewing around angry thoughts in his mind. The room had no windows and was in half-darkness. The only noise was the distant purr of the ventilation system, and the soft clicking noises of the medical droid as it reviewed samples of Ram's blood. The cooped-up and recycled air of Nar Shaddaa was thick and smelly, especially this far down below skyline. The small medical bay was roughly sixty levels below the peaks of the highest buildings, down where the sun scarcely showed itself and where the inhabitants did the same. To walk around alone anywhere on Nar Shaddaa was an invitation for trouble, but to do so at these levels was close to suicide. Sentients either moved along in packs, or else with very apparent and threatening weapons.

Ram cursed under his breath again and tapped his clenched fist softly against the medbay wall, restraining himself from delivering a smashing blow instead. He wasn't usually an angry man, but at the moment his burning fury from the past few days was only starting to simmer down. After more than a decade of manhunts throughout the galaxy he had developed a grim attitude and a cold calmness that was the terror of his victims, and which he considered to be the key to his success. His ability to keep a cold head in any situation had kept him alive in situations that would have destroyed a lesser man. Right now however, Ram was fighting hard to control his frustration. _If only his ship hadn't been shot down on Corellia six days ago._

He had been so close, so close to his target. The bounty had been big, and so had the risks, but he was used to that. The bigger the pay the bigger the prey and he knew it, but where had he slacked off? He didn't know, but the fact of the matter was that something had gone terribly wrong, that he had been shot in the shoulder and that his ship had been destroyed where it sat, on the tarmac of Coronet City's seventh outlying spaceport. _Blown away on the tarmac_, he thought bitterly. The ultimate humiliation for anyone who lived off their ship. He had barely gotten away with his life, and after lying low in the Corellian slums for a couple of days he had managed to hitch a ride back to Hutt Space with a smuggler returning from a repair trip.

After his defeat he had needed focus, and he needed funds. He knew where he could get the first, and that was back here on Nar Shaddaa. Throughout his career he had developed a strung out network of caches across the galaxy, often situated in hot points of « activity ». As it was, the Smuggler's Moon was about as hot as it got for bounty hunters. Between embittered smugglers, the myriad crime lords or whatever Hutt feud was currently on, the offer was what dominated the bounty market here. Some said that Palpatine was on the warpath, ranting on about peace and order, and that the Imperial crackdown would come any day now. But it had been eight months since the Empire had been proclaimed, and nobody showed even the slightest sign of wanting to change anything in that particular corner of space. _Let sleeping dogs lie_, Ram had said. _And leave Hutt crime lords alone._

Ram had limped back to his stash and was nursing himself back to health. His shoulder still throbbed under the bacta patch, but the pain was lighter already. _Those stormtroopers sure have a dead aim though_, he groaned to himself. _Guess I'm lucky the grunts aren't trained to go for headshots_. Lucky… the very word disgusted him. In his business, relying on luck was a luxury one couldn't afford. It was like putting a blaster with a glitchy power pack to your head and pulling the trigger. It may or may not go off. With a slight jab of pain, Ram swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and rested his feet on the cold metal floor. The medical droid's head swiveled on rusty servos to fix its gaze on him.

« You shouldn't move you know. It could increase the bleeding. »

« I'll be alright. » Ram grunted. « I've been through this before. » And he tested some weight on either leg. They both seemed fine, if a bit stiff, so slowly he raised himself from the bunk until he was balanced on both feet. With his shifty equilibrium he lurched forward towards the chair on which his clothes had been heaped.

« How long was I out ? » He inquired.

« You have been in an artificial coma for approximately forty-six hours. However I must insist that - » But Ram waved the comment away. He was still a bit woozy, but he knew he had to get the move on. If there was one thing he hated, it was being out of the picture. Out of the run, out of the market. He couldn't stand the idea of others passing him by, raking in the prizes while he lay unconscious or crippled. _When you live a life fuelled by daily doses of adrenaline, you can't suddenly lie down and read a book_. Groaning from the pulsing in his shoulder, Ram forcefully shoved on a pair of trousers and a shirt. He stuffed his boots on and left the rest of his gear on the chair for the time being. He triggered the door of the medbay and it opened with a soft hiss, revealing the main room of his Nar Shaddaa stash. A dusty couch squatted in a corner, a few empty shelves lined the walls, a desk and a chair occupied the main space and an old Holonet relay sat in a recess in the left wall. Ram shuffled over to the desk, pulled the chair up to the relay and sat down.

He quick-started the system and keyed in his query: Senator - Quarn - Assassination - Attempt. A list of results poured out over his screen, and he selected the foremost one. He was directed to the second page of an Imperial information Holosite. The main headline read « Assassination attempt on Senator Langut Quarn foiled ». He sat back and listened as a testy voice read the main body of text.

_« Today Imperial troops have successfully foiled an assassination attempt against a member of the Imperial Senate in Coronet City on Corellia. The targeted member of government, honorable Senator Langut Quarn, is safe and uninjured. The aggressor is reported to have been killed during the brief exchange of hostilities. An investigation to determine the responsibility of this attack is under way, but preliminary results point towards a possible involvement by Hutt crime lords. Once more, our loyal troops have proven that whatever threats may rest upon the Empire, they will be eliminated swiftly and completely, and that Imperial citizens, Senators or not, may live without fear. »_

Ram switched the voice off as it began reciting an interview of the Imperial sergeant responsible for the intervention. Ram watched the mute screen as the man, whose chest boasted a new flashing insignia, mouthed away silently with an infuriating air of smugness. _Reported dead_ Ram thought, half amused. _Well it did come pretty close._ The scenes flashed back through his mind, crystal-clear and fresh.

It had been a senatorial summit on Corellia, one of the core worlds. The summit was taking place in the Senate Palace of Coronet City, the planet's capital and it's most prestigious and populous metropolis. His target had been the Imperial Senator of Belsavis, Langut Quarn. He and twenty-four other senators had been gathered that day to discuss the opening of new trade routes to the Outer Rim, as well as the strengthening of existing routes against increasingly frequent pirate raids.

Quarn was an imposing man, in the sense that he was wider than he was tall. He was only middle-aged, but what hair remained on his scalp was scarce and gray. Ram knew he didn't suffer from any particular health condition, other than that of being morbidly obese, and so he guessed it must be the stress of government. Ram had arrived on-planet two weeks before the summit, to plan out his attack. He had rented out a lot in Coronet City's seventh outlying spaceport, one of the planet's largest. He had been busy installing surveillance equipment around the target area and rendering it undetectable. He had also tapped into the Palace's security systems and had obtained access to CorSec's own surveillance system. He had taken great care in making his intrusions as invisible as possible. He had determined exactly where the senator would land, which routes he would take to travel, and where he would be lodged and fed during his stay. The target would only be on-planet for three days, four if the summit took that long. After that, he would return to his homeworld in the Outer Rim, where he would once more come under his own personal security system. If there was one thing to be said for Senator Quarn, it was that he was a complete paranoiac. He never traveled without a good reason, and only did so in his personal heavily armoured corvette. He walked about with three bodyguards, all of which were of Mandalorian descent. When he was on his own turf on Belsavis, he resided in his impregnable fortress-estate. Ram knew that this would be his best window of opportunity to take down his target, and he knew it wouldn't last long.

Ram had decided in advance when and where he would strike. The moment when the senator would be most exposed would be during the meeting itself. There would be no guards in the room, no recording equipment and no cameras. The room's walls were fortified, but its ceiling boasted a prestigious transparisteel dome. That was the weak link Ram was going to exploit. A week ago, he had fragilized a narrow strip of the dome without breaking it, so as not to set off any intrusion alarms. He had just carved it up enough so that it would collapse to, say, a blaster bolt.

Ram was poised on the roof of the Palace on the day of the event. His review of CorSec's security protocols had told him that for such a meeting, a code three out of five vigilance level was instated. That meant heavy security checks at the entries of the building, and armed guards patrolling the interior of the compound. However there would be no rooftop snipers, which meant he had the roof all for himself. He had slipped up there the night before, and laid in wait. Senator Quarn had landed at the expected time on the expected lot. Ram had traced him on his armour's built-in computer all the way up to the Senate Palace, where he had successfully passed the security checks. The meeting would begin in four hours. Ram unhooked his precision rifle from the back of his armour and double-checked the energy pack. He sat there and calibrated the sights, waiting.

Four hours later, a small chirp in his earpiece alerted him to the fact his target had exited his quarters. Ram stole quietly over to the fragilized portion of the dome and flipped down the eye-screen of his headpiece. He selected the feed from the miniature camera he had installed at the top of the dome a few days earlier, and watched as the senators filed into the room and took their designated seats, which were sparse and far apart in the vast gathering hall. The room had been designed to hold almost three hundred, and seemed almost completely empty with only twenty-five souls to fill it. Ram immediately identified his target as he entered the room. The fat man hobbled over to his seat and let himself down with a "huff" Ram could imagine from where he crouched. The home delegate from Corellia began opening the speech with a few formalities. Ram's target was in place, and he was getting ready. He would only have a few seconds to appear before someone would notice his silhouette against the edge of the dome. He was about to pounce when he heard a harsh voice shout from behind him.

It had all happened in a split second. There should have been no one else on that roof, which made whoever was there an immediate hostile. He instinctively judged the distance of his attacker by the sound of the voice, and let the scoped rifle drop from his hands. He swung around as his right hand grasped his blaster and raised it -and found himself facing a fire team of four Imperial Stormtroopers. His blaster was only half-raised when the troopers opened up, sending a storm of laser fire thundering towards him. One shot went wild, but two others hit home. The first struck him straight in the chestplate and was absorbed by his armor, but the second bore in between the chest and shoulder plates, burning away the light flexible polyfiber armour beneath the heavy plates and scorching his flesh. Ram cried in pain as he was thrown backwards. The fourth shot hit the fragilized portion of dome and shattered it. Alarm klaxons blared as transparisteel rained down into the room below and triggered the building's intrusion alarms.

Ram, still gripping his blaster in his right hand, fired three blind shots and lobbed a flash grenade straight from his belt. There was a blinding flash and a bang and the Imperial troopers cried out in surprise, while Ram rolled over and leapt straight off the top of the Palace into the void. He tapped a button on his wrist computer that would lock his armour joints in place and stiffen the interior padding of the suit, thus preventing the breaking of bones during an extremely traumatic event, such as leaping off a seven-story high roof. He landed with a crash in the street below and had the wind blown out of him. There were cries of confused people all around him, but he could also make out the shouts of CorSec and Imperial troops pouring out of the Palace. Ram unlocked the armour and broke into a sprint, ignoring the stabbing pain in his innards. The armour lock may prevent the breaking of bones, but it couldn't prevent internal damage to organs. He would have to check for haemorrhages as soon as possible.

He sprinted around the nearest corner, just as blaster fire shot past him. He gazed about swiftly, scanning the area for any means of putting as much distance as possible between himself and the Palace. There was an air rail line above him, and a car was approaching. Ram levelled the grappling hook built into his armour's right wrist and hoisted himself onto the passing transport. He screamed in pain as his weight landed directly on his wounded shoulder, but through strength of will he held in there. He attached himself to the underneath of the car, and hung there for two klicks as it sped through the streets along its rail, away from the Palace. He finally dropped off and disappeared into the city's sewage system. From there he was able to make his way unhampered back to the spaceport.

Ram remembered bitterly as he had lifted himself out of the sewage system at the far edge of the tarmac. He immediately sensed the smell in the air and knew something was wrong. A ship was burning. He could see a thick column of black smoke rising from a place not too distant. He made his way there, stalking from ship to ship, until he had been able to glimpse the scene from afar. A platoon of stormtroopers were standing around the smoking ruin that had once been his ship, waiting.

Ram sat before his Holonet relay, his glazed eyes not taking in the images anymore. He was focused on the one in his head. He was focused on that thick column of black smoke rising from his ship.

It took some time for him to shake himself out of his embittered reverie. _Wishing for what's gone isn't going to bring it back_. He thought to himself. Cold hard efficiency, always. That was the backbone of a good bounty hunter. He had been thwarted, but not broken. One way or another, he was going to fill in the contract. He would see to it, he would strive for it, he would not rest until it was done and he would not be surpassed in his task. He wouldn't stay out of the picture, not for a single day longer.

He leapt back to the medbay chair and grabbed the rest of his gear. He attached his blaster belt, fitted his backup weapon into his boot, his other into his vest, and attached his mini concealed vibroblade to his right forearm. He donned his armour, which hung on a hook at the far end of the bay, and began keying some data into the small computer on his left forearm.

« Now you're planning on going out ? » Complained the med droid. « How am I supposed to patch you up if you voluntarily sabotage... » But Ram deactivated him in mid-sentence. You could change the personality of those droids to some extent, but whatever you did to them they always seemed annoyingly like your mother. He finished entering his data into the computer, and donned his earpiece. The smooth voice of Arya, his armour's built-in droid brain greeted him.

« Welcome back Mr. Arston. Coordinates set. Proceed to elevator 17b and travel upwards for thirty-nine levels. » Ram grinned as the familiar voice droned on. He found Arya's accented drawl familiar and comforting. Plus, it was practically the only friendly voice he could count on hearing when he needed it. He walked out of the medbay, feeling a new man again now that his armour was back on. The pain in his shoulder was still pulsing, but he felt it easier to ignore now. He flexed a few times to test his muscles and was satisfied. He locked the door behind him, and proceeded to the one on the opposite side of the dusty main room. He stepped into what looked like little more than an oversized closet, but was absolutely filled with weapons. Ram reviewed his small arsenal, which ranged from scoped and silenced rifles to heavy shoulder mounted ion cannons. He grabbed one of the simpler blaster rifles and hooked it onto the back of his armour. He wouldn't need it, but you shouldn't go out without out it in these levels. He locked the door behind him again, and proceeded to the main door of his stash. He threw a quick glance at the screen displaying the Holo-feed from the camera outside, and triggered the door.

He stepped out onto a platform, and quickly reviewed both sides of it. Nothing caught his eye, but he nonetheless waited for the door to hiss shut behind him before he began walking. The platform was narrow, and hugged the wall of what seemed to be an endless building. To his left was a chasm that dropped down at least fifty levels before the buildings shifted, but Ram knew the moon's original surface was far lower than that. Those were places you just didn't go, however big and threatening your guns were. The things down there wouldn't mug you, they would eat you. Alive. The building the platform ran against jutted out about five meters above Ram's head, which made it hard for him to see anything above. Sunlight was filtering down and hitting the opposite building, which made the area a bit brighter than usual. Ram continued his trek towards elevator 17b, trotting up a small staircase and crossing the chasm to the next building via another small footbridge. As he looked up, he saw the skyscrapers towering above him, and dozens of ships swooping and swerving in semi-organization against the reddish-tinted sky of the Smuggler's Moon. He kept up his pace and reached the elevator in good time.

He called the elevator, and threw alert glances both ways as he waited. People were trudging along the walkway, but they all seemed very keen on minding their own business. There was a chime, and the old door slid open with some difficulty. Ram let out a bulky one-eyed Ithorian before he entered himself and sent the elevator back up. He went over his thoughts as the elevator sped upwards towards more pleasant levels. His absolute first order of business was to get back in the circuit, and for that he needed a ship. He knew his funds were low after the rout on Corellia. He had put some amount of credits into all the surveillance equipment he had installed. It would have paid off if he had gotten time to take his shot, but the Imps had gotten to him first. A frown obscured his face as he struggled to keep his mind straight. He knew he couldn't afford to dwell on that any longer, that he had to move on, but some part of his mind insisted that there was a snag.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a different world. The upper levels of Nar Shaddaa could be compared to the lower levels of Coruscant: dirty, smelly, and in a constant state of disrepair. Sentients of all races mingled on the platforms, on the walkways and in the hovels on the sides of buildings. Loud arguments arose frequently and one grew accustomed to the sound of blaster fire which usually settled them.

Ram grinned slightly as he stepped out of the elevator. This felt more like home to him than any other place in the galaxy. There was the smell of food from a hundred different worlds mixed with the smell of waste from just as many. There were the streets that never slept, the alleys you could go down and those you couldn't, and those that were only safe in the morning. There were the ale houses and the whore houses, the gambling dens and the wrestling dens. Ram was happy whenever he had his feet on the Smuggler's Moon. He felt _alive_. But at the moment he was a busy man with a ship to find, and he knew exactly the person who could help him.


	2. Ch 2 : Jinx

**Nar Shaddaa  
The Brothel Sector**

Ram stepped out of the taxi into the noisy streets of the sector known as the Brothel. The place had become famous for having the most luxurious and expansive pleasure houses in Hutt Space. Whatever species or gender you belonged to, and however twisted your tastes, chances were good that you would find what you were looking for in the Brothel. The place was also infamous for its signature trade, that of sentient beings. The slave market had always been going strong on Nar Shaddaa, and more so in the Brothel than anywhere else. From the dancing Twi'lek slave girls of Ryloth to those forced to labor in the shipyards or worse, there was never a shortage of hands, paws or appendages for sale. Ram however was in search of a ship, not labor, and he knew where to find the person who could help him.

He strode off the taxi platform onto a footbridge connecting to a suspended plaza. From there he weaved his way amongst the crowd and the hovels, keeping an eye out for trouble, and made his way towards one of the dingier pleasure houses. The two guards at the door nodded him through with hardly a glance. Ram passed several ornate draperies, and penetrated into the fragrant stuffy atmosphere of the pleasure house. The place was dimly lit, with only a faint purple haze glowing from select spots around the room. The walls were lined with alcoves, each of which held a low table and plush cushions. Several of the alcoves were closed by drapes. A couple of dancers undulated lavishly in the center of the room, surrounded by a few gruff sentients laying about the soft cushioned floor. A soft music was playing, but other than that the place was mostly quiet, except for a muffled moan now and again. A dark figure with an enormous blaster lurked in a corner, lazily reviewing the scene. The air was thick with a fragrant smoke, probably the herbs of some far-away world. Ram took in the smell and scanned the room, looking for his man. He would have time to amuse himself later perhaps.

There was a counter in one corner of the main room which Ram made his way towards. A faint glow emanated from beneath the bar, but like the rest of the room it lay in relative darkness and mystery. The man behind the counter looked up from his datapad as Ram approached.

"What would it be?" He offered.

"A shot of the home-made" Ram replied. "And a word of info. Is Jinx in today?"

"As usual." Grunted the barman without looking, as he reached for the required bottles and began mixing the drink. Ram nodded, slipped him a five credit coin and turned around to rest his elbows against the counter, wincing again as his right shoulder throbbed. He stayed there for a while, sipping his drink, enjoying the mellow music and watching the dancers. His gaze wandered over every sentient in the room, but he was careful not to make eye contact with any. There was a Trandoshan, a Wookiee and three Humans watching the dancers in the center. Two Devaronians were having a hushed discussion around a small table at the far end of the room. Ram scanned the alcoves that weren't veiled. Most of them were occupied by obscured figures of varying bulk. Some were in the company of private dancers, while others drew succulently upon large pipes set on the low tables and let the smoke roil up in a thick concealing mist. It was towards one of these figures that Ram headed.

He drew up to the alcove and stood before it for a second to peer through the thick smoke. He could just make out a massive figure behind the misty veil, and two keen eyes fixed upon him. Whoever or whatever it was made no gesture of invitation or threat, it simply watched. Ram slid himself into the alcove and let himself down gently onto the soft cushions, next to an enormous jet-black Wookiee. The creature barely seemed to take account of Ram's presence as it drew another lungful from the pipe, held the smoke for a few seconds, and let it escape in a long satisfied sigh as it watched the dancers in the center of the large room.

Ram sat silently next to the huge creature and fondled his drink, but never took his eyes off him. The Wookiee took another two silent puffs before he even acknowledged the other's presence with a soft growl and turn of the head.

"Jinx." Ram offered. "It's been a while. How's business going these days?"

The Wookiee simply stared at him profoundly. Ram wasn't nervous, but he kept his body tense. Jinx was known to be temperamental, and that could be a dangerous personality trait in a Wookiee. Ram planned to smooth him out with some small talk, but he could never tell how much was enough, especially if the Wookiee was high on whatever herb he was smoking. The massive creature rumbled in its low-pitched voice. Business was going slowly, he said. The market was stale at the moment, and he sure could use a battle or two to get some pilots roughed up and in need of repairs.

Jinx had begun on Nar Shaddaa, like so many others, as slave labor. He had been captured as a cub when the transit ship his family was on had been hijacked by pirates, and he had worked the first ninety years of his life as a mechanic in a dingy repair shop somewhere in the midlevels of the Smuggler's Moon. He had eventually amended his status as a slave by tearing his masters limb from limb as soon as he glimpsed the opportunity. They had sent armed men after him, and he had torn them up as well. This bloody rampage had earned Jinx a double reputation, that of fear and respect. He was feared by slavers, whom he would make short work of whenever he could, but he also earned immense respect on the part of the other slaves working at the shop. After the carnage was over, he had decided to take over the shop for himself, and hired many of the other former slaves as his coworkers. He was now known as a master mechanic and a very able ship dealer, as well as one hell of a temperamental bundle of muscle. Nobody knew Jinx's real name, and Ram suspected the Wookiee himself didn't. The nickname had gradually settled in because some people believed it was bad luck to deal with a blood-crazed Wookiee. The rumor, undoubtedly encouraged by the friends of some of the old slavers, had it that once a Wookiee had tasted blood he would be forever crazed and prone to violence.

Ram didn't put much stock in such superstition, but he knew for a fact that Jinx could be one mean machine if provoked. And he was easily provoked. Ram and the Wookiee had nonetheless struck up an awkward friendship over the years, as the bounty hunter was used to coming to that repair shop. He had been surprised the first time he had seen the Wookiee standing proudly without a restraining collar, but hadn't had any second thoughts about going somewhere else. Ram knew that it was Jinx and his friends who usually worked on the ships anyway, so free or enslaved, the service would be the same. This attitude seemed to win him the Wookiee's friendship, and since they had been on good terms. At the moment the Wookiee seemed to be pleasantly inebriated by the fumes, and any sign of strife in his voice sounded more like a vague anguish than straight fury.

"Sorry to hear that." Ram mumbled. "But I guess you're gonna be glad to see me then."

The Wookiee cocked its head to the side and let out an inquisitive growl.

"Yeah, ship problems alright. It got blown the blazes up as a matter of fact. My wings are clipped pal, and I need some help fixing that".

Jinx's eyes unfocused as he took another long drag on his pipe. He offered a sharper series of growls to ask what in the blazes had happened and Ram realized the Wookiee must be more awake than he had thought.

Ram was hesitant to unravel his story, in part because it still filled him with rage and in part because he cringed at the thought of how badly his reputation would suffer if the exact conditions of his ship's demise became widely known. A bounty hunter was only as good as his reputation, and when you lost it, it was gone forever. The Wookiee prodded him and Ram grudgingly explained what had happened, embellishing the story whenever possible. The Wookiee didn't laugh or smirk, but just sat back and listened as he puffed away on his pipe.

As soon as Ram finished his story, Jinx began shooting questions back at him. What had Imperials been doing there in the first place?

"Damned if I know. I was supposed to be alone, and I was as careful as ever to make myself discreet. There shouldn't have been anyone on that roof, and especially not Stormtroopers. You know how proud the Corellians are about taking care of their own security and all, right? I just don't get it."

Jinx asked him who had given him the contract, but Ram brushed away the question with some annoyance.

"Forget it, you know the rules. The contractor wants to keep quiet, I keep it quiet."

The truth was, Ram knew it would be better to offend one Wookiee right there and then than anger his contractor, Gledda the Hutt. Hutts were reputed for having boiling tempers, and were known to execute people or have them hunted down at a whim. The upside for Ram was that as a bounty hunter, they were regular and steadfast employers. The downside was that if you pissed one off, you were liable to find yourself staring down the business end of a blaster before you could say "nerf cakes".

Jinx didn't seem to mind and growled his understanding of the situation. He took a puff and let out a tremendous cough, somewhere between a bark and a howl. Ram waited for the furry sentient to collect himself, and asked:

"So, do you happen to have anything down in that dump of yours? I need something fast and I'm ready to take what there is... under certain conditions of course."

Jinx chuckled and growled that he did indeed have an old lump that had been sitting there for a couple of weeks and which he had been planning on using for spare parts. It could barely fly, but it would be his… if he could afford it, he added with a sly look.

"Well" sighed Ram, ignoring the remark "when can we take a look then? You know how I am when I'm resting…"

Jinx replied he knew Ram simply didn't rest.

"That's about it. I want to get back on track as fast as possible. So whenever you're ready, I am".

Jinx appeared thoughtful for a while, and almost reluctantly admitted that they could drop down to his repair and retail shop immediately if things were so urgent. The Wookiee was obviously loath to leave his hazy cubicle, but a ship sale was still a sale, however beaten up it was.

Ram nodded enthusiastically, and followed the big creature as it sidled its way out of the booth. Ram drained what remained in his glass and followed his friend out of the hovel. The light in the sky was fading, and signs had flickered to life everywhere while they had been inside. The moon was entering its short night phase, during which the planet it revolved around, Nal Hutta, would pass between it and the sun. The two-night cycle made it practically impossible for most species to adapt any kind of regular sleep cycle, but no one had ever been concerned with that. It was just part of the chaotic way of life on Nar Shaddaa and those who didn't adapt didn't live to complain about it.

Ram followed the Wookiee along a walkway that became progressively more crowded. They brushed past a couple of arguing rodians, and Ram barely glanced as one of them pulled a small vibroblade on the other and the two collapsed on the side of the walkway in a silent struggle. Jinx turned off the main path and led the way down a flight of stairs that hugged the wall of a building and overlooked a chasm that seemed to drop down to the moon's very core. Peering over, Ram couldn't see the bottom, and he wondered briefly how many sentients had perished by falling down there. They reached another pair of elevator tubes and called for one.

Moments later, one of the doors opened with a hiss and the two stepped inside, taking care to avoid some viscous green fluid smeared across part of the floor. The lift took them back down into the bowels of the Smuggler's Moon. The lifts were nowhere near as fancy as those found on Coruscant or the core worlds, where one could barely feel the acceleration and deceleration. Here an unaccustomed person would suffer from severe nausea at the rather strong G forces applied as the lifts "took off" and "landed".

After a few minutes their lift settled down and the two of them stepped out. Jinx led them off to the right and Ram immediately spotted the four figures seemingly loitering around on the walkway. _People don't loiter around here_. Jinx saw them too, and without halting began releasing a low continuous growl in his chest. Ram noted his friend's apparent confidence but surveyed the area for anyone else. The four ahead were the only souls on the walkway. He unclipped the blaster on his felt, as the four figures coalesced into a human wall that barred their passage.

"Thaz here is a busy man." One of the human drawled. "So don't waste his time. Cough up whatever you've got and maybe we'll leave your organs inside your bodies."

The two groups were only about ten meters apart now. Ram could see the flash of blades half-concealed under ragged sleeves. Jinx however wasn't even slowing down. Rather, he was accelerating. His low growl developed into a roar as his acceleration exploded into a sprint on the last few meters. The Wookiee was upon the men before they could react. The was a flailing of limbs, a popping and tearing sound and an insane scream of pain as one of the men crumpled to the ground in a gush of blood, his right arm torn clean off at the shoulder by the enraged Wookiee. Three blades flashed at the creature and Jinx howled as one of them slashed across his chest. He grabbed another man by the neck and with a single motion, threw him bodily backwards over his head into the chasm. The man screamed as he fell down into the open mouth of darkness. Jinx spun around to meet the other two attackers only to see that the third had fallen to the ground with a smoking hole in his skull, and the last one was running for his life.

Ram pocketed his blaster and jogged over to his friend to check if he was hurt, but the Wookiee shoved him off. Routine Jinx called it, and as Ram looked closer, he noticed that several patches of fur were missing from the creature's blood-soaked arms and torso, and there were many scars of different shapes and sizes. The Wookiee just wiped at his wound once, shrugged off the pain and motioned to keep going. Another five minutes' walk and they were at what resembled an old airlock fixed into the wall. The walkway ended and beyond Ram could see there was a considerable gap between the buildings where ships sped back and forth. Jinx triggered the door's mechanism and it opened with a hiss.

The pair made their way into the messiest workshop Ram had ever known. But then again, he had been here often enough to know what to expect. The entrance hall was the smallest room in the complex, being only about eight meters wide by fifteen long and four high. Junk and spare parts were pilled ceiling-high almost everywhere, and the pair had to weave their way through the room into the main hangar. Ram nodded at a young Sullustan who was busy calibrating circuit boards for some ship's onboard computer. As they entered the main hangar, space opened up around them. The ceiling rocketed up to about twenty meters, and the whole room must have been roughly two hundred meters long and a hundred deep. The place was immense, but at the moment it seemed relatively empty. Ram spotted a collection of speeder bikes and a couple of starfighters with their engines lying in pieces at their sides, but Jinx led him on a bit further and the two made their way around one of the fighters.

Jinx stopped with hands on his hips and grumbled under his breath, nodding in the direction of the ship ahead. Ram came to a stop beside him.

"Please tell me you're joking" he said.


	3. Ch 3 : Scraps and Bounties

**Nar Shaddaa**

**Jinx's Ship Repair & Retail Shop**

Ram stared at the ship, his feelings stuck somewhere between awe and horror.

"I had no idea there were any of these left" He muttered. "I thought they'd all been..."

"Scrapped?" Jinx chuckled "That's what I was planning on doing with this one, remember?"

Before them stood one of the rare remaining models of the Corellian YT-1760 light transport. Ram remembered hearing that in the jargon it was referred to as a "feather fly", after a delicate Corellian insect. This was due to the craft's frequent need of repairs and attention. The YT line was one of the prides of the Corellian Engineering Corporation and had racked up success after success, but the YT-1760 seemed to be its first letdown. Aside from its frailty, its stock armament was light and its cargo capacity was next to non-existent. The cockpit tube extended between and slightly above the trademark YT mandibles, which were smaller than on a 1300 model. The ship's clustered engines did allow for increased sublight speed and manoeuvrability, which had to be the ship's only saving grace. The stock hyperdrive was a class 1, which wasn't great but was tolerable given the average so far on the YT series.

The ship's awkward combination of features made it a poor choice for any given role, whether it be that of a freighter, a fast ship or one designed for combat. Overall, Ram thought, he wasn't going to be picking any fights in this crate. At best it would get him from point A to point B, hopefully without draining his account too fast in fuel and repairs.

"And that's all..." he grumbled

Jinx nodded. Unless he wanted to wait until another ship arrived, that was all there was. Ram grimaced and turned away, pawing at his hair as he considered his options. The ship was a piece of junk, but then again he wasn't usually one for ship-to-ship captures. He was a proficient enough pilot, but battles and boarding weren't really his thing. He liked to have his feet planted firmly on the ground when he took out of targets. Still, he was loath to trust such a mess of a ship. A bounty hunter always had to have a good pair of wings, if not to capture or destroy their prey, then to out fly competition. Ram knew he wouldn't out fly much in this bucket.

Jinx watched patiently as his friend paced around, at times studying the ship from different angles, at times just staring at the ground. Waiting was the worst option, one he couldn't bear himself to accept. Checking out the ship dealing competition would take a long time, and Ram knew that Nero, Jinx's main rival in ship dealing and pretty much everything else, was a dangerous crook.

The two salesmen were quite alike in character, the difference being that Nero was known for his affiliation with some shady second-line Hutt clans. The other difference of course was that Jinx was a friend, which would cut down on haggle time...

"I need some time to think it over pal." Ram started off.

Jinx rumbled that he wouldn't touch it for a couple of days to give him some time to make up his mind. As Ram was walking away back towards the workshop exit, Jinx barked the price at him and he winced again.

The day seemed to blur past him. Ram didn't know what to do; and he raged at his feeling of helplessness. He was a man of action and couldn't bear waiting on the substitutes' bench. He decided that his first move should be to reassure his employer and let him know he was still on the job.

Sitting at a table in a small tapcafe on the upper levels, Ram used the table-encased Holo relay to make his call to his employer, Gledda the Hutt. The Hutt's voice, as always, betrayed not the slightest emotion. This was a dangerous trait when it came to Hutts. They were notoriously easy to anger, and manoeuvring was made easier when one knew the mental state of one's Hutt interlocutor. Gledda's expression however was as bland as a statue. There wasn't the faintest trace of surprise, excitement or anger in his demeanour as Ram explained what had happened. The Hutt seemed to listen with declining interest, before finally informing him that another bounty hunter had been hired to do the job.

"But I'm still on it!" Ram said hotly.

"Then may the best hunter win" Gledda waved him off. "Whoever sends me Quarn's head first gets the bounty".

Ram muttered some curse under his breath, agreed, and cut the line. There was nothing more amusing to a Hutt than a game in which someone was mauled or killed. Watching two hunters slug it out to bring back a prey's head, now that was prime entertainment.

This was Ram's first time working with Gledda and so far he hadn't been enjoying the experience. He had been recruited through the Holonet by one of Gledda's agents, and that's where the entire contract had been detailed. The two had never actually met. The way Ram understood it, no one ever met Gledda. At least no one had ever come back to speak of it. He had his victims sent to him rather than delivered in person, and paid all his bounties directly into the hunters' accounts.

Ram signalled for another drink and ruffled his hand through his hair. Another hunter meant increased time pressure. But with a ship like what Jinx had in store for him, there was no way he could take on a high-profile target such as Quarn. He would either have to wait it out, or look for another ship dealer all over the Moon and hope to find a better deal with a complete stranger... or he could take matters into his own hands.

An hour later Ram was stomping back through the Brothel, headed for the bounty boards, his mind firmly set. There was no way he was going to sit on his ass while someone else chased after _his_ target. He was going to bring Quarn down himself, and wasn't about to let anyone beat him to it. That bastard had a death mark on him. As he jogged up a flight of stairs, a sign caught his attention.

Living on Nar Shaddaa meant coping with a constant assault on the senses. The place was a jungle of smells, sounds and sights. Holosigns and ragged posters of all colours piled up everywhere, one on top of the other. But while they were almost always filled with desperate eye-candy, one particular holosign was as somber as could be. The white sign hung alone on a dingy wall, and it seemed like everything else around it had been torn off.

As Ram looked at it, he noticed with surprise the imperial logo glowing in all four corners of the poster. Curious as to what the Empire would be doing plastering things all the way out on the Smuggler's Moon, he walked up to the sign to inspect it.

_To the attention of those it may concern_

_The Empire is in need of skilled hunters to assist in the tracking down and execution of several dangerous criminals. These individuals are:_

_Any former member of the decadent and dangerous Jedi Order. This includes all Jedi Knights, as well as members of the Agricultural, Medical/Educational and Exploration Corps._

_These individuals are all accused of high treason against the Empire and are to be considered extremely dangerous. All methods of termination are authorized._

_Imperial services are offering a substantial reward to any person who brings one or more of these criminals to justice._

There followed a list of bounties, varying according to the particular type of target they were being offered for. Ram scrolled down the list until his eyes hit one of the last lines:

_For any confirmed kill of a Jedi Knight, the Empire is offering the sum of 50'000 (fifty thousand) Imperial Credits._

Ram stood there staring at the figure, his mind racing. _Fifty thousand!_ That was more that he would need to refit that pile of junk in Jinx's shop... no, it was more than he would need to buy a completely new ship and refit _that_. His mind was buzzing and a grin began to creep over his face.

Sometimes, openings had a strange way of arriving at exactly the right moment.

A short while later Ram buzzed Jinx up again. The Wookiee looked surprised at hearing from his friend so soon after they had parted. He hadn't even had time to finish up the business he had started at the shop and get back to the Brothel.

"I may have found a way to get back in the circuit, fast" Ram told him "I've gotta talk it over."

The Wookiee agreed and within another hour they were sitting outside the same tapcafe. Despite his bulk, the sombre Wookiee was quite inconspicuous on the Nar Shaddaa street side, and no one gave him a second look. Ram began going over what he had seen earlier as a beefy Quarren served them drinks.

"It's a blast of an opportunity!" Ram was enthusiastic "with a single confirmed kill I would be back on track and after Quarn."

He rambled on for a while about how good a chance it was, but gradually realized that his friend seemed far from overwhelmed. Jinx pawed at his drink silently for a few seconds after Ram had finished, cogitating. He growled:

"What else have you heard about these Jedi types?"

"Well.." Ram explained he knew they were some sort of order of monkish warriors, who acted basically as a secret police. Jinx stared at him intently during his recital.

"... and they operate mainly in the Core Worlds. Not enough of them to cover the Outer Rim I guess. I heard they're pretty good in a fight, but I've dropped a few mean cats in my time so that shouldn't be a problem..."

Ram noticed Jinx was back to toying with his drink, and paused. The Wookiee gulped the fiery liquid down in one go, and rumbled in his deep voice.

"I don't think you have quite the measure of who these Jedi Knights are."

"I don't?" Ram's eyebrows danced. "Well light my lantern then champ"

The Wookiee gave him a dark look before going on. As it turned out, he had had several encounters with these people and yes, they did come out as far as the Outer Rim or Hutt Space.

"They wield these Fire Swords with... elegance" he garbled "and they have powers. They can throw a person across a room without touching them..."

Ram listened as the Wookiee went on about Jedi prowess. He described what he had heard of their combat abilities, and some of what he knew about their religion. His nonexistent education left him fumbling for words at times, but it was clear to Ram that his friend was in admiration of these warrior-monks. Apparently these hot rods believed in some kind of all-binding, all powerful energy which they could harness to do... whatever.

"They... helped me" Jinx finished. He was silent for a moment. "I can't believe the Empire says they're criminals."

"Hey hey, remember I don't call the shots" Ram raised his hands as a sign of neutrality "I take 'em. You know it's not my business to get mixed up in issues of who deserves a bounty on their head and who doesn't. There would be no end to that crap, and I'm not even interested. I'm the executioner, not the jury."

Jinx waved the comment aside and motioned to the Quarren for another drink. Of course he knew. But it just didn't feel right to hunt these people down.

"It's just a feeling" Jinx went on "that... they're on the right side."

Ram's eyes rolled. "Side? You should get up to speed with current events pal; the war's been over for a while now. As far as I'm concerned, there aren't any sides other than the trigger and business ends of my blaster."

The Wookiee rumbled sarcastically that he knew that as well. Ram chugged down his drink, motioned for another and went on.

"Morality, nobility... none of that stuff comes into account in this line of business. Someone offers you a fat wad of creds to blow someone else into space dust and you do it, law or no law. Taking risks, getting paid... that's the only form of loyalty I can afford to live by."

"Some day you'll realize that you have to live _with_ yourself as well" Jinx's gaze was intense "Being a hired gun doesn't free you of responsibility"

"Yeah well, so far I've found my own company pleasant enough" Ram chuckled "I'll worry about my conscience when that's all I have left."

"So you're going to need a ship then?" Jinx changed subjects with a comical grin.

"Yeah..." Ram's expression fell and he grinded his teeth together "I'll take that piece of junk off you. But you'd better believe as soon as I cash in my first bounty, it's going straight to the scrapyard."

With a grin, Jinx replied that that's where it came from in the first place.

The two slapped hands over the deal and downed the second drink.


	4. Interlude 1

**Hutt Space  
Unknown planet**

In the dingy, poorly lit underground facility, a young Imperial Intelligence officer felt sweat bead on his forehead as he closed off the comm channel. He fidgeted for a few seconds before grabbing the system again.

"Lieutenant Sekk" He said in a steady voice, regaining his composure "I think you should come and see this."

Moments later there came the sharp clap of heeled boots on the hallway floor. The lieutenant approached him from behind, set a hand on the back of his seat and leaned over his shoulder, scanning the monitor with his eyes.

"What is it?"

"The bounty hunter is alive."

"The first one?" The older man was surprised.

The officer nodded. His superior was silent for a while and then grinned in an amused way.

"Well? Let's let him have another shot at it then. Perseverance pays off, remember that."

He patted him on the shoulder and walked away. The officer stared into space for a second, then grinned and got back to work.


	5. Ch 4 : The Silent Force

**Outer Rim**

**Unidentified planet**

Ashen Heral had stopped again to focus on opening his senses to the maximum. The jungle was alive with the million sounds and smells of life at its wildest. What Ashen was searching for was something else, something far too elusive to be stumbled upon by using simple eyesight or hearing. He breathed in deeply and focused on expanding his consciousness and his awareness of his surroundings. He felt out softly to the Force, trying to find the trail... but there was still nothing.

He sighed and resumed his march. For three days he had been trekking through this dense jungle, following the fleeting echoes left behind in the Force by what could only be a Jedi Master. Ashen didn't need to feel the echoes often to follow the trace, but he wished they would come with some more regularity.

The Force was always alive and turbulent. One tuned to feel its movements could sense the vast swirl of life in their surrounding, particularly so in such a dense jungle as Ashen was in. They could also focus their attention on a single signature and study it. Ashen felt the vibrant life energy of the forest course powerfully through him, and fed upon it. It brought comfort and relief. Relief from a soul-jarring sensation he had felt that had shaken the very foundations of his faith a few months back.

Ashen slipped through the forest like a breeze, light and without sound. He had been living in a state of perpetual alertness since the tremor. That's what he had come to call it in his mind. As he moved along, he kept part of his mind focused on the Jedi Master's trace and allowed the other to reminisce, yet again. He didn't know what good it could do him; he had been over everything hundreds of times and the horror was still as present as it had been on that first day. Still he had no answers.

As a Jedi Knight operating under cover and far from the Core Worlds, Ashen had never had much contact with the other members of the Order since he had successfully passed his Trials and been sent on his first assignment to Hutt Space. As it turned out the Council had decided to keep him out there as a "permanent observer", demanding that he inform them of the local flow of events and that he help any Republic citizens in transit through the sector. As far as the Order was concerned, he was their eyes and ears in the sector and was to remain so, unknown and undetected by others.

This situation was a lonely one for Ashen. As a Jedi Sentinel, he operated alone. He had so little contact with other Force-users that he had been required by circumstances to develop a plethora of skills most of the Order would frown upon. He had forsaken most of his studies of the Force to focus on mundane skills that were, to his eyes, much more relevant to his situation. The time he should have been saving for meditation had become progressively eaten away by the acquisition of new talents such as blaster proficiency and lock picking.

He could however feel out and touch people he knew through the Force. He was able in this manner to communicate feelings and sometimes thoughts with them. The throbbing buzz of life present throughout the entire galaxy was always somewhat behind the soft hum of the presence of Force-users, however distant they were.

A few months back however, Ashen had awoken to a sound he had never heard before. The Force had been silent. Through meditation he had tried as best he could to feel his fellow Force-users, but there was no one there. It was like a vast room that had suddenly been emptied of all its occupants. Their presence still lingered, yet a stale air was beginning to settle. The silence had closed in around him, and Ashen had suffered his most terrible feeling of solitude ever. The questions it had raised had nearly driven him to desert his post and come rushing back to the Core Worlds for answers. He had begun doubting his own ability to perceive the Force, not understanding how he could suddenly no longer sense anything but the chaotic rabble of life around him. Just as he had begun to see his sanity slipping through his fingers, Ashen had felt the small drift, the breeze, the uncatchable echo that had brought him to the jungle he now inhabited.

There was no mistaking the signature. Ashen didn't know who he was following, but he could occasionally sense a strong presence in the Force. He felt benevolence, but also an extreme prudence, as if he were tracking a hunted beast. _What use would a Jedi Master have of such stealth?_ Ashen was used to dissimulating his nature as a Jedi to the eyes and ears of those around him, but he had never before been pushed to conceal his Force signature. Masking his identity had many uses, not the least of which was to protect him from potential foes such as fanatic Jedi-hating sects that sometimes developed in the Outer Rim territories. Ashen however was perplexed at what could incite a Jedi Master to conceal his very imprint upon the Force. It was a move that in ordinary times would be considered as a desperate attempt at secrecy. Ashen knew that ordinary times had come to an end, and that some new force-sensible foe had been unleashed. He was, somehow, in mortal danger.

During his meditations Ashen's mind had pawed at the idea of the Sith being responsible, but he had dismissed it as an impossible supposition. The Sith had been extinct for a millennia; their fire had gone out of the galaxy. It would have been unthinkable to have them return undetected by all, and even more unthinkable to have them defeat the Order. Nonetheless, the thought of his brethren falling to the blades of Sith warriors still haunted him. _Something_ terrible had happened.

Yet as he excluded hypothesis after hypothesis, he didn't feel he was thinning down towards the truth. He was just wasting away, thrashing around in a circle of uncertainty. He needed the means to obtain answers to his questions and to find out what had happened to the Jedi. And so here he was, tracking down the only Force user he had been able to find, hoping that this mysterious Master in exile would be able to help him elucidate the mystery of the silent Force.

At midday, Ashen halted again by a riverbed and knelt down to rest. He pulled his last rations from his sash and ate them slowly. The jungle would have to provide from that point on. After he had finished his meal he tried relaxing his body once more and letting his mind expand gently. He let his surroundings and the sound of flowing water sooth him into a state of complete calm. He felt out again with his consciousness, exploring the Force and searching for the signal he had been following so far.

He felt something! There it was, somewhere ahead. It was coming from the next valley, and it was... calling him. Whoever it was, it had sensed Ashen's presence and was apparently sending out an invitation. As he focused, he thought he felt something else. There was a peculiar buzz around the Force signature, an unusual hum which blurred it out somewhat. As soon as he began feeling towards it however, it disappeared and the other presence retracted itself completely.

Ashen sighed. He wished now that he had honed his Force sensitivity a bit more during his isolation on the Smuggler's Moon, but he had had more immediate skills to develop, and had chosen to leave activities such as meditation and lightsaber training for the rare occasions he could call leisure time. He slowly pulled himself back together, got up, picked up his sash and continued his trek, wading through the shallow river. He knew where to head once more, and was determined to make good time to his objective. If he kept up a good pace, he should be able to reach the next valley by the next day.

He found himself thinking about the mysterious Force user's identity again. From the confines of his mind the word "Sith" came fluttering back, and Ashen found himself considering the possibility of a trap. Once more he brushed the idea away. _No way_. He could not, however, prevent some part of him from being uneasy, and so he remained on alert as he plunged back into the dense foliage on the other side of the river.

Not far from there, a Jedi Master slowly withdrew from his meditation. One of his protégés had just warned him that his guest had arrived, and that he was needed immediately. The Master allowed himself one last moment of reflection before setting off to meet his friend. He had just let out another faint echo in the Force to guide the soul approaching through the jungle. He didn't know who the person was, but he could clearly feel a presence in the Force. What was more; it had the verge typical of Force-users. The Master could feel benevolence mingled with terrible torment. This soul had a good heart but was deeply troubled, perhaps even in pain. There was need of haste.

The Master was surprised and immensely pleased at this turn of events, at the appearance of another Jedi. He could sense turmoil inside the approaching stranger, and much confusion. He was a lost soul. Well, there were some things that could be done to help that, but the Master sadly knew that the only answers he may be able to give would be likely to open more wounds than they would heal.

"Master..." The protégé had come back.

The Master turned around and smiled at the child.

"I'm coming" He whispered, and slid off his stool. The child bowed as the Master rose, and turned to lead him to his visitor. He led him out of the meditation chamber and down a long winding, dimly lit corridor of stone. They moved quietly through a vast underground complex, their breath hanging in the air in front of them. A young girl stumbled out of an adjoining hallway and paused to bow as the Master glided by.

The little boy halted before a heavy wooden door and turned around.

"Your guest is waiting inside, Master."

He was thanked, and with a bow saw himself off. The Master could sense the presence of his benefactor within the room. Smiling to himself and wondering what had brought him, the Master opened the door. He opened his arms wide to greet his friend, a very fat, nervous man sitting in a rickety wooden chair in the corner.

"Langut" he smiled "It's good to see you again."


	6. Ch 5 : Dustoff From Nar Shaddaa

**Nar Shaddaa**

**Low Orbit**

Ram sat in the pilot's seat of his freshly acquired heap of junk and manoeuvred clear of Jinx's shop into the chasm beyond. He spun the ship around and rocketed upwards, swerving to avoid a few outcrops of crazed urbanism. The ship shot up and gradually left the twisted maze of Nar Shaddaa behind. Ram set his course for the Moon's low orbit beneath the shield line. The place had never had a planetary shield, but the shield line was still referred to as the separation of lower and upper atmosphere. Ram was headed for the satellites in low orbit around the Moon. He began scanning for one particular piece, a relic ages old that had been set up countless years ago, well before the rise of the Empire.

Jinx had refused to discuss the hunt for the Jedi in any further detail, but in his mind Ram had already assembled the beginnings of a plan. Republican, or rather Imperial, bounties were usually the hardest for a prey to live with. They were generally rare, and they were almost always carried out quickly. An Imperial bounty would alert the entire galaxy to a prey's existence, and force that prey into hiding.

Hiding was easy; there were countless places where a marked man could go to change identity, appearance, or just lie low and hope for the storm to pass. Some places were dingier than others, and Ram knew he was flying over one of the worst. Nar Shaddaa was a haven for people who didn't want to be found. The Smuggler's Moon had never had much in the way of a population census, and what it did have was regularly tampered with or sabotaged. It would be a good bet to assume any Jedi within several parsecs would have at least transited through the Moon at some point, if they weren't still there. Ram felt confident that he could begin his search immediately, right here at home.

The satellite he was headed for was a traffic control satellite that had been used briefly under the old Republic. Apparently some governor had tried to make a move to bring the Moon into the ranks of the more orderly worlds, and failed. The satellite was all that was left of the attempt at bringing civilization to the Moon. When Ram had found it, its orbit had been decaying and it would eventually have burned up. He had stabilized its orbit and even added a little sensor equipment of his own to patch it up. The lack of official census data on the Moon made it all the more precious to him over the years.

Despite its age the obsolete flying fossil still recorded all ships arriving and departing from the Moon, as well as details of passengers on all commercial flights. Ram had used its data and scanning capabilities several times to find or confirm trails, or the presence of prey in such sector. Were anyone else to take a close interest in the satellite, it would automatically encrypt its data and appear to have a memory drive malfunction. Were those investigators to push their curiosity further, it would self-destruct with a blast sufficient to bring down a medium-sized frigate.

The ship's instruments whistled as the scanners acquired the satellite, which was floating near a small cloud of space debris. Its shields flickered occasionally as it fended off the floating scraps of metal. Ram let his speed ebb down as he approached the instrument. He commanded the ship's droid brain to interface with the satellite and bring up the data feed on his screen. Figures and options began flooding over the monitor, and finally settled as the connection stabilized. The amount of data the machine collected was tremendous, and Ram occasionally had to dump the satellite's memory so it didn't malfunction for real.

There would be a million times too much data to sift through manually, so Ram assigned the ship to do it instead. Hunched over the control panels he began keying in instructions. He told it to search for ships matching the design of starfighters the Jedi had been known to use, and the computer set itself to work.

As it hummed and clicked, Ram considered what criteria he should use when commanding it to sift through the passenger data of commercial flights. Even with the satellite's help most of the information would be missing, since many of the line ships that came out here were beat up and their monitoring equipment was out of order or had been intentionally disabled.

He fed the first thing that came to his mind into the computer: weapons carried. He told it to search for anyone carrying energy powered contact weapons, and let the droid compute. A minute later hundreds of lines of data were sprayed across the screen and he sighed: he would have to narrow it down somehow. As it was, every creep with a vibroblade would be showing up in the research results. He cogitated for a while as to what could specifically define a Jedi. He tried to remember what he had heard of read about them, what Jinx had told him. He shook his head and keyed in a few more commands, instructing the computer to disregard anyone with a criminal record in the late Republic's databanks. Most of the names on the list vanished, but several dozen were left.

Ram knew that fugitives usually travelled under false identities, but as he recalled the data recorded by the satellite focused on visual identification rather than any ID produced by the passengers. Ram fed the computer some more instructions, telling it to re-display anyone whose features were unrecognizable and to disregard any well-known traders. The list grew and shrunk several times as he wrestled with the data, trying to thin it down to something manageable.

Eventually his attention focused on a flight that had taken off two weeks ago in the direction of the Bespin system. There had been ninety-eight registered passengers, yet the video feed recorded a hundred and one people climbing on board. The three oddballs also checked out in all of Ram's other chosen criteria. They carried energy-based melee weapons, their heads were hooded and so their faces were invisible. Ram brought up some info on the Bespin system to check it against what he already knew.

The sector was only sparsely populated, its main trade being in various gases. Several mining facilities had developed there over the past centuries, and there had been a constant struggle for independence against the growing pressure of the Republic. From what Ram had seen from the satellite's data, traffic between Bespin and Nar Shaddaa had increased dramatically in the last few months. Ram had no idea what there was to be found over there. From what he had read, all there was aside from the mining facilities were luxury establishments and resort hotels. Not exactly the kind of place where this local scum would be welcome.

Ram played over the video recording again and again, gazing intently at the three hooded figures. The first two came in together, and the third arrived shortly before takeoff, apparently exchanging a word with the flight officer before slipping inside. Ram peered closely at the recording. The hooded figure leaned in close to the uniformed man, whispering something. There was a gentle flick of a hand, but no blaster was produced. The officer seemed to pause for a second, then nodded and made a check on his list. Ram dropped the Bespin data and entered a query for the whereabouts of the shuttle itself. The computer clicked and promptly brought up its results: the ship was a battered old Corellian line shuttle that went by the name of "_Adela's Delight_". Its last destination had been a place known as Cloud City on Bespin. According to the file it had returned and left again since the flight Ram was interested in, and was scheduled to fly back to Nar Shaddaa again in two days.

Ram considered it. He'd rather keep ahead of things. _Waiting is the mark of a weak hunter_. Getting to Bespin would be easy enough, and he could interrogate the flight officer over there... roughly if he had to. The prey itself probably wouldn't be in the City anymore, but maybe he would be able to trace them for there. He decided that it was as good a starting point as any, and even though he knew there was a decent chance he would make a useless trip, he knew decisions had to be made and chances taken.

"Arya, plot a course for the Bespin system" he sighed as he relaxed back into the pilot's chair. He had connected his armour's AI to the ship's droid brain and could interface with it that way, which made things considerably smoother. Knocking down the ship's firewall had only taken minutes. This old can wasn't exactly airtight as far as holo-security went. Ram had made a mental note to himself to amend that if he felt he was going to have to keep this wreck for long. The ship soared into the upper atmosphere and away from the Moon, and the nav computer bleeped as Arya confirmed the plotted course. _Here we go_ Ram thought to himself. _Back in the race_. He pulled a lever and the vessel disappeared instantly into hyperspace.


	7. Ch 6 : Jedi Meeting

**Outer Rim**

**Unidentified planet**

Ashen Heral was in a tree. He swore softly under his breath and dragged his legs up a bit higher as the feral beast below made another attempt at snatching him down. The creature fell back to the ground and resumed its pacing around the tree, growling hungrily. Ashen was resenting his lack of training. A Jedi trapped in a tree. He shook his head at himself and pictured his Master's exasperated frown. He felt like a fledgling Padawan again, fumbling with his senses and unable to overcome the most basic task. The creature had jumped him and he had been too slow to react. He had been entirely focused on following the Force-signal, and hadn't paid enough attention to his immediate environment.

His lightsaber was in his hand but he had not ignited it. He had sworn to himself to only use violence as a last resort. His survival should be no more important than the survival of the beast after all. Or so the Code said. Ashen wiped the sweat from his brow and looked around at the surrounding trees. There was one near enough for him to jump to from an extended branch. He began to sidle his way along, feeling the trees resistance in his mind to determine whether the branch could hold his weight. The vines and lichen made the surface slippery, and he had to take care to keep his hold. Slobbering jaws snapped shut again right below his dangling knees and he bundled up. He got as far the branch would support him, stood, balanced himself, and leapt. He soared through the air for a second, crashed onto the next trees branch and managed to scrabble his way up and get a steady hold. The beast paced hungrily below.

Ashen gazed around and saw that a rapid river cut its way through the undergrowth a few trees ahead. Hopefully he could shake the beast there. He reached it after several more tenuous moments of climbing, balancing and leaping. Peering back down he realized the beast did indeed seem to shy away from the flowing rapids. It barked angrily at him as he Force-leapt across and landed softly on the mossy shore. Ashen spun around and watched for a few more instants to make sure he was safe. The beast pawed at the water for a moment, huffed, then turned around and disappeared into the foliage.

The Jedi let out a deep breath and let himself relax as he felt out to his new surroundings. He didn't want to be surprised again so soon. He would have to exercise more care. It was now his fourth day since landing on the planet, and the Force-signal was getting steadier. He could feel it almost constantly, without having to slip into a trance. The presence was strong, and created a pulsing verge in the Force that Ashen felt drawn to. He would do anything to escape the oppressive silence that had been weighing down on him so much. He moved on ahead and followed it.

He walked for the rest of the day, stopping once to eat some delicious fruit from a luxuriant tree with low-hanging branches. As he was carrying on along a steep slope, approaching a high rocky outcrop, he suddenly felt something through the Force. It was much more than a feeling or a presence, it was a command. Not an imperious one, but authoritative and binding nonetheless. _Halt_. Ashen stopped in his tracks and grabbed his lightsaber, all senses in alert. Had he been wrong to trust his faith? Was this really a trap after all? He felt out all around him with the Force and located the presence immediately. It was ahead of him, almost overwhelmingly strong. It felt like being touched by a suns ray after months of interior confinement.

He pushed through some brush with mind and muscles taut, and laid eyes upon a cloaked figure which stood facing him. As he entered the small clearing, the figure seemed to radiate benevolence and reassurance.

"I am not a threat to you" Ashen couldn't be sure whether the figure had spoken or not, but some message had crossed between them.

Ashen moved forward slowly, in awe, his weapon arm lowering to his side. The figure lifted its hands slowly, keeping them in plain sight, and pulled down its hood. Ashen set eyes upon an elderly man, human by all appearances, with a small goatee and hair tied in a bun behind his head. A deep, fresh scar ran the length of his face, from his forehead to his jawbone. It was a face carved of wood, weathered and beaten in the furnaces of life. But the man was serene as he smiled at Ashen and spread his hands in a gesture of greeting.

"Welcome, Jedi Knight" The old man said. "I am Jedi Master Ephel Trenn, and you have arrived at my sanctuary."


	8. Ch 7 : Cloud City

**Cloud City  
Port Town**

"Ship ID confirmed. You are authorized to dock on ring 182, sublevel seven"

Ram eased off the throttle as he glided towards the massive structure. Having grown up on the Smuggler's Moon he had developed a feeling for chaos, perhaps even an appreciation for it. He was used to twisted structures piled upon each other until they defied sanity. He was used to navigating the long meandering canyons between crooked buildings. He whistled to himself as he gazed at the city ahead of him. There seemed to be no chaos here. The city was shaped as a giant spinning top, with buildings visible on the summit of its dome.

Ram directed his ship towards the lower levels around the structure's midline, to the sector known as Port Town. From what he'd heard and read it was a bustling transit point for travelers, and much less reputable than the upper levels. He eased down on the manoeuvring thrusters and settled the ship down onto his assigned docking ring. The tin can groaned as it settled onto its landing pads. There was a definite tilt to the forward right side. Ram grunted in annoyance as he made his way down the tubed corridors and triggered the airlock mechanism.

As he stepped down the ramp onto the platform, he was buffeted by a cold wind. He allowed himself a moment to gaze out towards the pinkish sky of Bespin. In the distance he could see several floating gas extractors. Distant ships buzzed about, most of them coming to and from the upper levels. He had to admit the scenery had its charm. Peering over the edge of the platform he looked down into the bottomless depths of the gaseous planet. Falling off would lead to a gruesome death. Falling endlessly, becoming slowly crushed into a pulp as the gas pressure increased on all sides... He gathered his wits, turned back towards the station and without giving the planet another thought, strode down the walkway that led into the stations bowels.

Port Town was entirely enclosed within the floating city's bulk. Its docks were the only part that had a direct connection with the exterior. Ram passed through a high archway that connected a handful of rings to the interior of the Town. A lone guard took an unconcerned look at him and resumed his business. Ram walked through the gate into a dingy canyon-street. The place was about nine stories tall at a glance, with a street at the bottom and connecting walkways bridging the gap above. _Maybe I won't feel homesick after all_ he mused with a smirk.

Ram took an extended look around him. He could see taverns, lockers and storage quarters, hostels... everything to cater the needs of hasty travelers. He made his way towards the closest orientation booth, having to shoulder his way past a burly Ithorian. He came up to the woman at the counter.

"I need to know where the line shuttles dock." He said.

The woman glanced up from the holofilm she had been watching, slightly surprised.

"What's your destination?"

"Nar Shaddaa. Here's the ID of the shuttle I need."

She took the slip of paper with raised eyebrows and swiveled on her seat to feed some data into the holo-computer on her desk.

"Her next departure is tomorrow. She's docked on sublevel one with the other line cruisers. Bay four."

She handed him the slip back and he nodded his thanks. He turned and made his way towards the elevator tubes that lined the canyon walls a bit further down the street. He crowded into one of the capsules and punched in the code for sublevel 1. The elevator glided upwards, and Ram hugged the wall absently as passengers got on and off. He stepped out on sublevel 1 and entered a wide crowded hall. Hundreds of passengers milled about in all directions, many lugging baggage or animals with them. The noise was tremendous; the hall was filled with the hurried chatter of a dozen species.

Looking around, Ram quickly located the arrivals end of the hall. He began carefully picking his way through the crowd, having to dodge some of the more massive individuals. A pair of Wookies growled at him but he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. As he advanced, he saw that the hall's floor became split into five wide avenues that gradually became ramps leading up to various platforms. Ram followed the fourth embranchment. The shuttle had landed two days prior and was only scheduled to leave the next day, so the avenue was considerably less crowded than the others. A few sentients sat waiting on pieces of luggage, or haggled with vendors who had set up shop with small mobile booths. Ram went on.

Through another high archway Ram arrived in a wide docking bay. The massive Corellian shuttle sat like a fat grub in between two large walkways that served as boarding ramps. A few officials were running about their business, seemingly cleaning and prepping the ship for the next day's departure. Ram scrutinized the ship. It was huge. He would think there would be room for far more than a hundred passengers on board this mammoth. Probably something like five hundred, maybe even more.

He walked up to the first official he found and addressed him.

"I need to find the flight officer who supervised the boarding of this ship."

The official looked up from the crate he was packing, visibly annoyed.

"The crew? They're not due for arrival for another fourteen hours. They're usually lodged at the Hexon's Hostel just down there" He motioned back out the docking bay to the great hall. "Port Town security likes to keep a closer eye on staff transiting to and from that Moon. Try and deal with smuggling and stuff, you know."

Ram signaled that he knew.

"What if my guy's not there?"

"Well if they're not at the hostel they'll probably be boozing down in the sublevels somewhere." The official grinned. "Gotta find a good way to fill your time when you've only got three days leave eh?"

Ram nodded, tossed the man a credit-chip and set off. A few minutes later he passed the heavy door of the Hexon's Hostel. The place was poorly lit, and reeked of stale air and dirty linen. Hardly better than Nar Shaddaa, Ram thought to himself. He made his way past the entrance couch-lounge and tapped the reception desk until someone emerged from the backroom.

"I'm looking for the crew of this shuttle" He said, giving the clerk the cruiser's ID "I was told they were being lodged here."

The man noted down the ID and turned to his holo-terminal. He puffed on a rancid cigar as his eyes scrolled down the screen.

"Yep, they're _lodged_ here alright. Haven't seen much of 'em though, they're almost all out again."

"I'm looking for a member of the flight crew. Noticed if they hang out together?"

The man's eyes narrowed as he peered at Ram through his cigar's smoke.

"Who's askin'? You some sort of cop or somethin'?"

Ram produced a ten credit clip and held it firmly between his two right forefingers, close to the man's nose. He stared him in the eye, and slowly lowered the bill into the man's breast pocket. The man huffed, shrugged, and turned back to his screen.

"It's always like this with them shuttle crews. Stay cooped up in a ship so long they can't stay in place once they reach port. Now you askin' 'bout the flight crew..." He took a long drag and let the smoke sift out through his nostrils. "They hang out yeah. Not sure I remember where though..."

He turned shrewd eyes on Ram but instead of the new credit chip he was expecting he saw a blaster resting on the counter. Ram's hand was on it, index finger softly tapping the trigger guard. Not a word was said.

"Well uh, ehm. They, uh, used to like hangin' at the Broken Extractor down on sub three. Now I can't promise that's where they're at" He added hastily. "But I know it's one of their favorite spots."

"Thanks". Ram pocketed his weapon and left.

Another twenty minutes search brought him before the tavern the clerk had mentioned. From the outside it didn't look much cleaner than the hostel had been. The name was displayed in glowing letters of changing hues, but the walls were smeared with stains of old posters and graffiti. Ram walked in and was greeted by a loud chatter, music, and the smell of a hundred different ales.

Within, the place was brightly lit. Ram assessed the crowd and guessed it to be sixty, maybe seventy people's worth. Ithorians, Rodians, Twi'leks, Humans, and a couple of Devaronians were drinking, laughing, arguing, or playing various games of skill or deceit. A couple of waiters bravely struggled through the crowd, skillfully lugging around platters of drinks. Ram spotted a group of humans in a corner of the tavern who were all wearing similar jumpsuits, and who seemed particularly rowdy. He walked up to the bar and ordered a pint of the local bitter before making his way toward the group.

They were in the middle of a heated game of Sabaac, and were apparently playing according to their own variation of the rules.

"Mind if I join?" Ram asked, signaling to them with his mug.

A couple of men turned, sized him up, and with a friendly smile motioned for him to come over. He grabbed a stool off a pile near the wall and sat himself down at a corner of one of their tables, propping his glass and forearm on the surface to make himself some room.

"Good timing space cadet, hope you've got some credits to lose cause I'm on a streak." The man next to him chuckled.

"I get along pretty well myself" Ram grinned "I just might ruin your day."

The man laughed and Ram clashed mugs with several of his table neighbours. _Better make a nice insertion_ he was thinking to himself. _There are a lot of them and I can't afford to start a brawl_. He took a gulp of ale as the man dealt a new round of cards.

"Entry fee's twenty credits, think you can manage that hotshot?"

Ram flipped a couple of chips on the table as an answer, and the man took that as an affirmative. Ram picked up his cards and studied them, taking care to keep them concealed from his neighbours' roving eyes.

The first round went sour and Ram had to chip in another twenty credits.

"I should tell you to cut your losses" The man leaned over and gloated "but you just financed the next round. Can't say no to that."

Ram smiled and picked up his new deal.

"Play." He urged.

The second round he won. The man grimaced as he counted his losses, but he seemed to be a good sport. When he didn't see Ram reaching for the chips he pointed to them with raised eyebrows.

"Let's make it like this" Ram said "You keep the credits, get your next round, and give me a piece of information I'm looking for."

The man's eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion.

"What do you want?" The words were slightly slurred, but he was alert and the amusement was gone from his face.

"Easy" Ram said "I just need to know who was taking care of boarding on ramp four when you took off from Nar Shaddaa next-to-last time. I'm looking for a... friend of mine who was on that ship."

The man scrutinized him for a moment and seemed to cogitate.

"Well we take shifts" He mumbled "I was on ramp four last flight, which means Vix was on it the flight before."

"Vix...?"

"Over there. Guy with the beard."

Ram turned and saw that Vix had heard his name being mentioned.

"Mind stepping out for a word" Ram asked "I'll get you a drink for the trouble."

The man shrugged and got up from his stool, stumbling a bit as he did so. Ram ignored the curious glances of the other crew members, got another pint from the bar and handed it to Vix. The two of them walked out into the chilly street. The man slurped down some of his ale and stared at Ram woozily.

"You were on boarding duty on ramp four a couple of flights ago, leaving from Nar Shaddaa right?" Ram inquired.

Vix frowned and thought for a moment.

"Nah it was... ramp two. Aw wait no... yeah it was four alright. 'Think."

"Right. I'm trying to catch up some friends of mine who were on that ship, you may have seen them. They weren't on the passenger manifest, got on at the last minute. Remember?"

The man kept frowning as he swooned slightly.

"Nar... Shaddaa, you know. There's always stragglers."

Ram produced an image from the recording feed.

"I'm looking for these guys" He pointed them out "and this guy. Remember them?"

Vix took a close look at the two pictures.

"Yeah, think so. First two guys were pretty broad y'know. Didn't want to mess with 'em so I let 'em on. That third guy..." He tapped his forehead as if trying to recall. "Can't 'member him."

Ram could feel his patience dwindling and his nerves straining. He back-handed the man across the face and shoved him against the tavern wall. Vix was taken by surprise and dropped his glass, splashing them both with ale.

"Get your stuff together dimwit." Ram showed him the pictures again. "Who is the third guy?"

Vix stared at Ram rather than the pictures.

"Leggo of me.. ah!" He moaned as Ram's clutch on his shoulder tightened. "Just... lemme get the record. They weren't on it but I gotta written somethin' down. It's back at the hostel. Ah!"

Ram eased off his grip on the man's shoulder and switched to a collar-grip instead.

"Let's move."

"What about my friends? Alright alright!" The man quickly complied as he felt a cold metal cylinder press against the crook of his back.

The two set off from the tavern. Ram concealed the blaster again but kept it ready. He kept his grip on Vix's collar tight. The man's friends would take a while to notice what was going on, and by the time they thought of looking for him back at the hostel Ram would be long gone. They made it back to Hexon's in good time. Vix led Ram up to the room he had been sharing with three of his fellow crew members. Ram released him and the man began searching through a heavy grey duffel bag. After a short moment he produced a data pad, which Ram snatched up. Keeping an eye on the cornered man, he tapped in some commands and brought up the manifest for the flight he was interested in.

The first two men had registered under what seemed to be false names. Their final destination was listed as Cloud City itself, but there was no data entry for the purpose of the trip. The third target showed no information at all. No name, no destination, no purpose. Ram motioned the man over and shoved the pad into his hands.

"What's this?" He barked.

The man took a look at the pad.

"I... I dunno. It's weird, I don't 'member that guy at all... you sure it's not a system glitch? He was really on the ship?"

Ram didn't answer. His interest was piqued, but the trail was very slim. He would have to start with the first two and hope his luck bore some fruit.

"Where did the first two go?"

"I, don't know man! They probably had to check in on the arrival deck. Sublevel seven. They could tell you more."

Ram nodded and made for the door, all the while keeping an eye on Vix.

"Thanks for the tip."

He tossed the man a credit-chip, walked out the door and smashed the lock. He left, ignoring Vix's muffled thumping and yells from within. This should give him some time to get lost before his crowd of friends arrived and asked what in the blazes was going on.

As Ram made his way back to the elevator tubes, his brain went over what he had just heard. The third case was intriguing. No record, no recollection of the man being there at all... One thought, weird and uncomfortable though it seemed to him, stuck: Jedi mind tricks. The trail of the first two individuals had better not be cold.


	9. Ch 8 : Broken Faith

**Outer Rim  
Unidentified planet**

Ashen sat cross-legged in the damp cave and sipped the tea he had been offered out of a crude wooden cup. Night had fallen outside, and the place was lit only by the feeble glow of a single lantern. The rich odorous jungle air was still warm, and the noise did not lessen with nightfall. The sounds of animals chirping and moaning in the wild filled the cave entrance. Ashen tried his best to relax and think about what was happening to him. He had so many questions for this man...

The Jedi Master stepped through the chamber opening out of a small corridor.

"Forgive me, but my Padawan has many questions to ask. So must you."

Ashen opened his mouth to reply but didn't have time.

"However I must warn you" The Master sat down swiftly in front of Ashen on a small moss cushion. "I do not possess many complete answers, and those that I do have may bring you more pain than relief. I will however answer any questions you ask me truthfully and to the best of my abilities."

Ashen swallowed and wet his lips. His head was burning with so many questions he felt feverish, but one came to the forefront before he was able to set his mind in order:

"The Force is no longer speaking to me." The sentence came out by itself.

The Master cocked his head sideways and Ashen knew that hadn't come out right.

"I mean... I can still sense the Force and its currents but I... I can't feel any Jedi anymore. There's such a _void_. It's like a pounding silence in my soul. I don't know what's _wrong_ with me!"

The Master averted his eyes as a tremor shook Ashen, and hung his head. He took several deep breaths before speaking again.

"Your first question hits the most painful mark, as I expected it would. Yet I promised to answer you truthfully. The Jedi's presence has faded to my senses as well. Had you not picked up on my signal and come to me, I would have believed to be the last one."

"But how is this possible?" Ashen almost whimpered "What could have caused such a disruption in the Force? How could our senses have become so clouded?" He struggled to keep himself under control.

The Master looked at him sadly.

"Your senses are not clouded, I'm afraid. Feel out around you, young Jedi. Feel out to the jungle. You can feel the throb of life as vibrantly as ever. The Force cannot be unmade, and you can sense it as well as ever; as well as I can. There has been no alteration of your faculties." The Master sighed and paused. "You do not feel the presence of Jedi, because there are no more Jedi to be felt."

As the words worked their way through his ears and into his brain, Ashen felt himself go cold. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his limbs became twitchy. He felt deep nausea. He swooned and put out a hand to steady himself against the cave wall, breathing rapidly.

"No, that's... how?"

The Master took another moment to reply, in a heavy voice.

"I was on Eridis III six months ago, leading a small force of clones. It was a light operation, we were only there to mop up a disbanded separatist army that had fled from a neighboring system and was attempting to reorganize. The risk factor was low, and my Padawan was with me." He paused and his eyes unfocussed. Ashen brought his arms in to hug himself as he watched the old man recollect.

"We were just about finished with the whole operation, and were getting ready to pack up when they turned on me. My own troops. I didn't understand what was happening at first; didn't see where the outburst of violence was coming from. That moment's slip nearly cost Eril – that's my Padawan – his life. I was able to destroy the clones that were attacking us and we escaped on board my ship. Amid the chaos that still reigned in the skies, we managed to punch through the clones' lines and jump into hyperspace. The experience left me scarred, both physically and emotionally." The Master touched his face absently where the ugly mark marred his flesh. "Eril and I stayed in hiding for several weeks in Hutt Space as I tried to understand what was happening. The Force was silent to me, as it is to you now. The Order answered none of my crypted messages. I felt abandoned."

"But why did your troops attack you?" Ashen urged. "It doesn't make any sense!"

"None of it did at the time. I had only my suppositions for what felt like the longest time, until I made an unexpected friend." The Master's eyes focussed on Ashen again, and his gaze was intent. "As the Force would have it, I came into contact with the elected senatorial representative of this very planet."

"You mean of Belsavis?"

The Master nodded and shifted position. "Senator Langut Quarn is his title and name. He was very agitated when we met, yet he offered Eril and myself refuge on this world. It is through him that I received many of the answers I am about to pass on to you."

Ashen leaned forward, listening intently, with his mouth slightly open. The Master rolled his tongue around in his mouth, as if pondering how to put things. His eyes shifted around restlessly before focussing on Ashen once more.

"It seems there has been a cataclysmic change of power in the Core. The Republic as you and I knew it has ceased to exist. It its place, a new Galactic Empire has been proclaimed."

Ashen's nausea deepened but he said nothing, unable to utter the slightest word. The Master, gazing at him and seeing his plight, carried on.

"I do not know how this dreadful turn of events came to pass, but according to my friend, the former Supreme Chancellor of the Republic successfully proclaimed himself Emperor."

"The Sith..." Ashen managed.

"I do not know. But I do perceive the dark side at play here. Some hidden foe has struck us a deadly blow, without us even seeing it approach."

"But what of the other Jedi then?"

Master Trenn hung his head again in sadness. There was a long silence before he answered in a softer, almost subdued voice: "We have been declared enemies of this new regime. I cannot be sure, but my assumption is that they were ambushed as Eril and I were, and destroyed. The dust has settled, and I can feel no other friendly presence anywhere. The silence is unnerving. The unseen grip of the dark side has descended upon the Republic and strangled it."

There was silence for a moment in the cave. Ashen's mug lay on its side by his feet, the cooling tea seeping into the humid ground.

"As I said, I am afraid I cannot offer you much comfort" Trenn said sadly, setting his eyes on the shaken young Jedi once more. "What I have learned has shaken me like nothing before, and I can only imagine the effect it must have on a younger Jedi such as yourself. Yet you must find refuge and solace deep inside yourself. You live, and I live, and Eril lives. Within us, the Order still lives. We have not been defeated." There was a note of steel in his voice, but it was lost upon Ashen, who stared almost absently through Trenn to the cavern wall beyond.

"This senator" He slurred "How can you trust him? How can you be sure he isn't a Sith agent?"

Trenn smiled sadly. "I sometimes surprise myself by wishing I could convince myself of that. But you can feel the truth as well as I can, I believe. If Quarn were a liar I would have felt it. He is not."

"And where is this man?"

"Very near as a matter of fact. He and I have agreed to some sort of mutual assistance pact. He has been an outspoken opponent of this newly formed Imperial regime since its very beginning, and he is fearful for his own security. I must admit I myself cannot yet fathom the full extent to which the balance of power has been changed throughout the galaxy. I do not believe the Empire would dare go after its own senators, but Langut is a prudent man. He provides Eril and myself with shelter, and I provide him with counsel."

"Is this place safe?" Ashen couldn't even tell if he cared. He felt numb.

"I cannot say for certain. It appears to be as safe as we may find without having to reveal ourselves to any authorities. Stealth is of the essence now. The jungle helps me hide Eril's trace as well as my own. Langut has so far managed to keep orbital coverage and traffic over this area to a minimum. If you decide to remain here with us, I will teach you how to dissimulate your trace as well."

"Stay..." Ashen began "But I... well I suppose so. I don't know where else to go." He ended lamely.

"I understand your distress" Trenn said softly "and rest assured you are most welcome here. In fact" he added "I would urge you to remain here with us for at least a time, until you recover your composure. Such a blow will take a toll on any individual, be he Jedi or no. You would be safest here with us while you recover from your initial shock."

Ashen tried to gather his wits again. The Order, gone. "_No, not gone!"_ Some part of him rebelled. Ashen shook his head and waved his hand around vaguely as a drunk man, trying to clear the thought from the air in front of him. He felt the most extreme level of exhaustion descend upon him. He couldn't sort it out now. He needed to meditate... no, he needed to _sleep._ Under the Master's sad but benevolent eye, he curled up on the mossy floor and fell instantly asleep.


End file.
